Work Text:
Dear Andrew,
It’s been 10 years since I’ve last seen you. 9 years and 5 months since you’ve stopped sending me letters. And 9 years and 10 months since I found out you died. In that time I’ve had to battle with the person I knew you for in less than 24 hours, and the man all the media told me what you were. I don’t know what to make of it all. There’s articles upon articles, reports after reports, papers following papers all about you and your family. I told my therapist all about our relationship, leaving out some details. She suggested I write a letter to you, funny since you told me to never reply. I don’t know what to start with. So I guess I’ll start with telling you how my life has been.
Earl was my boss for a few years. He was a sweet old man, and reminded me of a couple people I used to see at church. He was inexplicably scared of me for a while, always taking second looks at me. I don’t know if he ever got over that fear actually, sometimes still jumping when I appeared behind him. He gave a good position for such a shitty resume, looking back on it. I just shelved things and took care of making the displays look neat. I really enjoyed my time, not to say it was easy. The library had just been built and Linda, who was more of the lead librarian than Earl was, was a pretty big stickler for the rules. I got lost a few times and had to hear her mouth. But I think we got along near the end, even helping me with college (but I’m getting ahead of myself).
There were a few other helpers and librarians around too. Ami was one of my favorite coworkers. They were a bit older than me, but probably the one I got along with best. They always had an awesome sense of fashion and we even got into the habit of shopping together. I never quite got to their sense of fashion though, it turns out I really like flannels and ‘dressing like a lesbian’ as my current roommate puts it. They were also the first person who I knew that was transgender. They identified as nonbinary and told me all about the queer community. From things like drag queens, to the stonewall riots, and even stories of S- relationships in Japan. They stuffed me pretty full of knowledge, and helped me decide the safer areas for me to attend school when things started getting scary for trans people.
Sid was a bit different, I never got a great read on him. I think we got along decently, but sometimes he could be really cold. Linda always helped me, even when it seemed like she would’ve preferred to do anything else (always mumbling about this ‘white boy needs help’). But sometimes Sid would straight up ignore me. He had pretty big mood swings at times, but he was a very attentive librarian. I learned a lot about myself from him, both of us being really specific about where things were and liking a routine. I figured out pretty soon that he only got pissy when his routine was broken. I definitely started understanding that as I got older, picking up a habit to soothe intrusive thoughts and a routine helped stop those thoughts. I’ll get into that when I talk about my current roommate though.
Tyler was the first ever guy I liked that wasn’t you. Well, ‘like’ was a bit complicated. With him I learned about hookup culture. He got hired shortly after I heard the news from you. I was really falling behind, often making careless mistakes. Even Linda and Sid noticed how thrown off my game I was, giving me space despite not knowing what was going on. How could they? It’s not like I could exactly say, “Turns out the guy that taught me sex was a murderer and professional thief!", so I just had to go home and mourn the fact I never really knew you. With Tyler, those thoughts dulled. He was a handsome redhead who was about 10 years older than me, his white smile releasing millions of little butterflies in my stomach. The sex we had was fine though, not quite the best way to break in a bed at my new apartment. And I couldn’t help but feel disappointed that he wasn’t looking for anything serious. At worst, I felt like a trophy; like I was an exotic prize that he could put away after he came. You’d probably hate him, Andrew.
Eventually a couple of years in, I decided to pursue my dreams. I didn’t get to tell you this, but when I was a kid I used to play vet. My animals were my first patients, reading books upon books in order to keep them safe. I was in charge of the cows despite my parents' hesitancy. I kept their pen clean, took great care of their coats, and even helped them keep birth. The same went for the barn cats we had running around; always making sure they were fed, nursing the kittens, and always making sure they were healthy. Eventually, I started looking into medicine. I would spend hours at our library, taking the limited science classes my high school offered, and looking at so many med schools and undergrad programs. My parents wanted me to be a nun or come home and live as a typical farmgirl. Before I left, I also told them how I wanted to be a doctor. They just laughed in my face, wondering why I would leave the nest just to have my wings clipped. Another dismissal of what I wanted to be, which added to me eventually running away.
It was Linda of all people who encouraged me to apply for community college, saying I was just wasting my time but fiddling with my fingers and that I wasn’t getting any younger. The community college that was by was still a few hours away, and I was taking the bus to get to work everyday. So I did online classes, spending my time in the library working on school. It may surprise you that I went into Theology for undergrad. Admittedly, I still had a connection to religion. I still wanted to study it and read upon all the different religions. Whether that was because of my genuine interest in the study, or the desire to hold onto the past; I'll never know. The entire library supported my endeavors. Ami would let me take breaks to work on school work whenever she was in charge, Linda gave me less shit when I was tired, Earl let me take longer breaks to finish up school stuff, Sid wasn't as cold and even gave me energy drinks, and Tyler was there to help me unwind and even drove me when I needed to go to school.
Eventually came the big day. I managed to fast track graduating, getting all the credits for undergrad in a couple of years. I must have applied to a million schools but I knew that I wanted to go to University of Pittsburgh School Of Medicine more than anything. It would be on the other side of the country, but I had always admired it since I was a kid. A doctor I used to know, went there for his residency and was much like me. A country boy who wanted a life outside, so he ran to the city. I never understood why he returned back to Nebraska, though. As a kid, I just assumed everyone ran away because they also realized there was no home back there. I remember everyone climbing around me as I refreshed my email over and over, even some of the regulars waiting with bated breath. My hand trembled as I saw the email, barely able to hear anyone around me due to my heart beating so fast. We broke the no shouting rule pretty fast when I saw the acceptance letter, the party streamers Earl popped off earning a lot of weird looks. All I could remember was crying so hard, my eyes were dry for days.
I hadn’t mentioned it yet, but I never spent the money you left me; or any of the money you sent me. I remember being so shocked that you left me close to 10k, nearly 5 times more than I left home with. Of course, now I know. I remember feeling so guilty as everyone waved me off at the airport. They had helped me set up everything, where I would be staying, my bank account, data on my phone, even pitching in more money to pay off for school (UPMC is not cheap at all). Linda actually sent me off with more things that I could realistically carry, like a concerned mother sending their son home with too much stuff from Christmas. But, It felt like I was lying to them about one big thing in my past. It was just one day I knew you, but you left me so much. A family all the way back in California, nearly 20k money that helped me pay off for school for years, and a night that I couldn’t forget if I tried. I remember trying to cry silently on the plane, knowing a part of you would follow me despite you being dead for years at this point.
My roommate's name is Trinity, a year older than me. I remember being really off putted by her at first, already being assigned a nickname by her in the first hour of meeting. It seemed like a disaster pairing, snarky and rude at first glance. But she quickly proved me wrong. She was smart, way smarter than me. She was attentive, showed her kindness in little things like covering for stuff that I couldn’t afford, and had a great sarcastic sense of humor (that took me a bit long to get). She even helped me get a part time job at the place she had been at for a year. Her customer service could have some room to grow, even now as were actual doctors, but she has results. She pretty much carried me when we started doing rotations; helping me best handle school, work, and rotations by going first. I know without her, I would’ve drowned in the pressure of school. Because despite being my dream job, med school is not for the weak Andrew. I tried to pay it back to her, always staying on top of payments and chores. When I couldn't pay the rent one time, my intrusive thoughts ate at me. I was so sure she would put me on the street, no longer being able to prove my keep. But she just paid it off for me, no questions asked. It made me realize that people who love me, wont try to wring me dry or expect me to be perfect. So now she just complains about my dirty socks, while leaving her own. She got accepted as an intern at the same place I did my ER rotation, PTMC.
PTMC is my home, currently where I work as a R2. I pretty much fell in love with it the first week, despite having the worst first day in the history of first days. I lost my first patient, got liquids splashed on me pretty much every hour, had to watch my best friend get belittled by a senior resident (who’s since repented and there’s a whole story there but this letter is way too long already) and was even part of a mass casualty event. Despite that, the ER is where I belong. Fast life saving measures that make me think about things in steps, having my brains work in overdrive, and getting to be there for people on the worst days of their lives is what it’s all about for me. Sometimes I see you in them, Andrew. After a long shift, I wonder; what if you lived in Pittsburgh? What if they rushed you to the hospital when they found you in that burning house? What if it wasn’t too late? What if I was the one to stabilize you? What if I got to hold you one more time before you spent the rest of your life behind bars? Maybe I would’ve visited you, everyday until you passed away in your cell. Maybe they would’ve killed you.
Despite the flimsy thing I had with Tyler, I didn’t date much; too focused on school and only having a few hookups far in between. Which makes me wonder how I ended up dating two of the most wonderful men in the world. I’ll admit that I have a thing for older guys, I won’t be ashamed of it anymore! I pretty much got a crush on my attending, Robby, immediately. He was tall, dark, and handsome. He towered over me and directed me around the ED like a lost little puppy, his warm hands made my belly do flips. I thought nothing would come of this silly crush, he was my boss after all. So I let my mind wander, wondering what would happen if I let those hands slip further down my body. Little did I know, Robby had the same idea.
Not to say it was easy. Our relationship was purely sexual at first. Not that it was bad, great even, but after Tyler I realized casual is not for me. Slowly, I found myself craving more out of our relationship. I wanted to stay over, wake up in the morning to his salt and pepper beard, share breakfast with him, drive to work with him. But he stuck to his 7 week itch, and I thought I would have to let my heart bleed dry. That was until I switched to the night shift for a bit. Jack scared me at first, he was tall, intimidating, and an army veteran on top of it. But he also looked like you, Andrew, like a version that got to turn his life around. I almost thought it was you when he first showed up at Pittfest. Jack is also an attending, but I was still getting over Robby so I didn't have any feelings at first. But I found myself getting drawn to him, his cool demeanor despite being an excellent doctor, the way he taught, his sense of humor… It wasn't long until I imagined if his hands were also good for things besides sutures.
But Robby and Jack were best friends, and I don't consider myself messy enough to fuck around like that. But like Robby, Jack was not subtle at all; even less to be honest. I felt myself melting under all of the praise, sweet words, and his eyes lingering on me. When Robby went on sabbatical in July, it was pretty much over from there. I didn’t want to just be a fun experiment for a few weeks, but figured that’s all I deserved. I thought no one would look at me like you used to. But to my surprise, Jack didn’t throw me away, far after 7 weeks were up, and we felt like a real couple. He took me out to breakfast after work, went to work together, stayed wrapped up in his arms after a long day, and before I knew it; we were doing everything together. I liked him. I really liked him. But I still selfishly found my mind traveling back to when I found Robby crying at Pittfest, small and malleable. I wanted to be there for him, to be there for the man who reminded me why I wanted to be a doctor on one of the worst days in my life.
Jack caught onto my lingering feelings pretty fast, probably because he felt the same way. He confided in me that before he met his late wife, he and Robby got into all kinds of shenanigans in med school. Robby was his idol, showing him the way in med school after he got knocked out of the army due to an injury. He quickly matched his pace and the two became pretty unstoppable. His relationship to Robby was purely casual for years though, only feeling a deeper attachment after his wife passed away. He was familiar with Robby’s self-deprecating and mental spirals, and felt like he managed to curve it properly before Robby left on sabbatical. Both of us wanted to bring him into our relationship, help him dance through the darkness as Jack puts it. It hasn’t been easy, all of us are pretty emotionally constipated. But I keep your words with me all the time, Andrew. That I’m young. And that I shouldn't let an old book tell me how to live. I’m sure if you had never told me that. I wouldn’t be here today. Happily doing the stressful job I adore, with my best friend in the whole world, and boyfriend to two men that I adore more than anything.
I went back to my house for the first time in 10 years, to Nebraska. My parents still lived in that house; with the porch swing that creaked, the wooden steps that were close to rotting, and the same rooster windchime that looked like it would snap off at the slight burst of wind. They looked horrified to see me, and didn't even recognize me at first. If it wasn’t for my older brother behind me, I think they would’ve mistaken me for maintenance. They scolded me for everything. For running away, for stealing their money, for blocking them, for getting my older brother involved, for becoming a monster, for going against God's will. They called me all kinds of names, every slur in the book you could imagine. And all I said was that my name was Dennis and I was proudly living as a man back in Pittsburgh. Then I left.
But before I did, my older brother wanted to show me something. I drove through fields in his same pick up truck he took me to the train station in, mourning the fact I would probably never see these fields again; never feel the Midwest wind pick up my golden curls. We stopped by the lake we used to swim in, now all dried up due to the tornado. I broke open a beer with my brothers there, who congratulated me, Dennis, on the job and who I’ve become. I completed another rite of passage with my brothers, having my first beer at the family lake (I've always preferred fruitier drinks). All four of us drove down to the station together and they told me to keep in touch, putting their numbers into the phone you gave me Andrew. They promised to visit me in Pittsburgh, knowing I would never return to Nebraska. And I scrapbooked the leaf from the tree that was growing in the place of the old one that was swept away.
When I came home to California for Christmas, the library had changed without me. It had aged, shelves collecting dust, windows dulled, chairs starting to squeak, and books no longer having the smell I remembered. But the people there embraced me like one of their own. Ami and Linda showered me in gifts, dragging me all around our small little town that had quite a few updates while I was gone. When I came back, it was the boys throwing me a surprise party. I got to meet Ami’s new partner, Mary, Linda’s twin grandsons were bragging about their first year in middle school, Sid and Tyler argued about the decorations being perfect, and Earl and I shared a dance without him flinching. Tyler took me back to the old motel, trapped in time like my parents’ house. A new resident was living where I used to be, about as big eyed and mousy when I was 21. I very much cried, wondering if that kid had anyone in their corner; if they also took a road trip and met a stranger that changed their life forever.
There’s a saying I heard in a tv show at one point. That there are people that help you become the person you end up being, and you can be grateful for them, even if they were never meant to be in your life forever. I never thought one thing could alter your life, not until I met you. Not a day goes by where I wish you were alive. Sometimes I wish it was in a prison cell so I could visit you, sometimes I wish that you had secretly lived and were looking for me, sometimes I wish I had met you back when you were growing up, sometimes I wish I had never met you at all but somehow knew you were alive, sometimes I wish we meet today just by bumping into each other at the grocery store. But it didn’t happen like that, and now you’re gone. I wish you weren’t a criminal, I wish I could ask you all about it. I hope you were somewhat happy in your last moments. I wish you could meet my best friend, the people at the library, my coworkers, my lovers. I hope your ashes somehow made it to Pittsburgh, so I can look up at the sky and imagine we're back in that motel room; listening to your heartbeat before drifting asleep. I hope when I die, we can be reunited again. I want to feel you again, as flesh and bone or as leaves in the wind. I really, really liked you Andrew. I love you Andrew. And I hope you’re living your afterlife somewhere, like how I’m living my life right now.
With love,
Dennis Whitaker.